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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498007">Music</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer'>Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020 [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>House M.D.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caring James Wilson (House M.D.), Comfort No Hurt, Comfortember 2020, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dom James Wilson (House M.D.), Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Greg House Loves James Wilson, Greg House and James Wilson Being in Love, Idiots in Love, James Wilson Loves Greg House, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Soft Greg House, Sub Greg House, Timeline What Timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 02:27:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>House swears he can hear music in everything, music in the way Wilson touches him, the way his arms tighten around him right back, the way he lifts his head from House's neck, the way his caramel eyes meet House's blue ones, intense and focused and sparkling with <em>love.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greg House/James Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020 [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Music</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 10 of comfortember, I did 'music' instead of 'crying' because... babies.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With soft jazz playing, all the lights off and Wilson in his bed, House finds that he can be <em>content. </em>Happy, even, if only for a moment - this moment - Gregory House <em>is</em>… happy.</p><p>They'd spent the rest of the night on the couch just kissing; it hadn't gone any further than that and House was alright with that. He'd been content just exploring Wilson's mouth as it is, tasting the cinnamon and rain like he'd wanted to do for so long. It's kind of funny now, he muses, how they'd seemed to have exhausted themselves from that alone. Wilson's arms are wrapped around him about as tightly as the man seemed to be able to manage, and House is happy to cuddle up against him for the time being. He can't help but trace his fingers up and down the other man's arm every so often, delighted by the goosebumps that rise in the wake of his careful touches and the way Wilson shuffles close enough to bury his face into House's neck, sighing.</p><p>House smiles, faintly, pressing his mouth to the top of Wilson's head, to his hair. He can't resist breathing in, until the smell of cinnamon makes his nose tingle painfully. It's the kind of pain House loves. The kind of pain that he feels beating through his chest. It's different, but it's all the same in the long run. The same because both feelings are painful, and yet House doesn't think he'd stand a moment without them. For the moment, he wants to ache. It feels good to ache.</p><p>Because he's content that he has what he's aching for.</p><p>The music playing is soothing, but there's another kind of music right then he can't help but focus on. Wilson's breathing is musical, each inhale and exhale he breathes out onto the skin of House's neck. He can feel his own goosebumps rising, chills rushing down his spine, and he wonders if Wilson could feel the shiver that courses through him. He thinks he does, because he can feel the other man's lips twitch against his neck, tugging upwards into a faint smile. Then he chuckles, and that sound is just as musical, and House buries his face deeper into the other man's hair and breathes in another lungful of his scent. He wants it to cling to him right then, so that he can smell it long after Wilson's gone - though the idea of Wilson leaving right then causes his arms to tighten around the other man reflexively, dragging him deeper into his arms.</p><p>House swears he can hear music in everything, music in the way Wilson touches him, the way his arms tighten around him right back, the way he lifts his head from House's neck, the way his caramel eyes meet House's blue ones, intense and focused and sparkling with <em>love.</em></p><p>He can hear the music in that love, the soft unspoken tune it sings. The song gets louder and louder as Wilson stretches upwards, just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. <em>I love you, I love you.</em></p><p>He sings back in a breathless whisper. "I love you."</p><p>There's music in the way Wilson beams at those words, in the pure happiness that shines through his eyes, in each kiss he presses to House's mouth in response, in the words he breathes in between. "I love you too-" Another kiss, another song, House doesn't ever want this melody to end, he's praying to a God he doesn't believe in that it won't. "I love you too."</p>
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